


Dragonhide Trousers Required

by glittering_git



Series: Drarropoly 2020 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Dragon Tamer Draco Malfoy, Dragonhide Trousers, Dragons, Drarropoly: A Game/Fest, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Romanian Dragon Sanctuary (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittering_git/pseuds/glittering_git
Summary: Harry arrives at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary to find Malfoy has developed a certain affinity for dragonhide trousers. He doesn’t mind, exactly.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarropoly 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067864
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Dragonhide Trousers Required

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Drarropoly ‘20: Founders Edition](https://gameofdrarry.tumblr.com/) for the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary prompt: _There is one item that a Dragon Tamer can't live without._ Thanks to the lovely [fw00shy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwooshy/pseuds/fwooshy) for the beta!

The bartender clears his throat loudly, pulling Harry from the brink of sleep. “Your company is here,” he says, thrusting his chin towards the door. 

Harry reluctantly pulls his head off his arms and looks blearily up, expecting to see Charlie’s mop of red hair and friendly face. What greets him instead is another sight entirely. 

Draco bloody Malfoy stands in the doorway like he owns the place. Even though he’s just come from outside, where Harry can tell the wind is blowing forcefully from the draft that is let in, his shoulder-length blond hair looks artfully tousled. His sharp grey eyes are not quite cold, not entirely friendly, but they draw Harry in. As Harry's gaze travels further down, he has to work hard to keep his mouth from hanging open. It seems like whatever the fuck Malfoy’s doing up at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary is doing wonders for him—he’s no longer the slim boy from Hogwarts. Instead, he's filling out his windbreaker almost as much as Charlie. And oh Merlin, are those dragonhide trousers? The way they fit Malfoy’s toned thighs should be illegal. 

“You might want to close your mouth, boy,” the bartender guffaws. “Malfoy doesn’t take well to being stared at.” Reluctantly, Harry forces his gaze from Malfoy and looks down at his pint glass. He takes a sip, steeling himself for whatever comes next. He feels, rather than watches, Malfoy sit on the barstool next to him.

“Fancy meeting you here, in a place like this,” Harry murmurs into his pint glass. 

“Muggle pickup lines? Really, Potter?” Malfoy snarks. “I expected better from you.” 

“Oi! I resent that.” Harry turns to fully face Malfoy so that Malfoy feels the full effects of his glare. Sharp grey eyes meet him, and Harry forgets for a moment why he’s upset. 

Malfoy’s eyes shine, and he smiles like a Kneazle that got the cream. “Oh, this will be fun, Potter. Thanks for making things interesting. The dragons are usually enough to keep me occupied, but sometimes, I find myself craving something…”—he trails off—“more.”

  


* * *

  


Malfoy wears those damned dragonhide trousers the next day, smirking when he sees Harry looking. It’s the same look he gave Harry when they parted ways last night, and Harry wants to tear his hair out in frustration. He came to the Sanctuary to learn, _not_ ogle Malfoy. He won’t remember a single bloody thing if he spends all his time imagining what it would be like to peel those trousers off. 

Malfoy snaps their fingers in front of him. “Potter, I asked you a question. Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” Harry waves him off. “You were talking about how to care for an Opaleye.” 

“No,” Malfoy says exasperatedly. “I was telling you that you must not get close to Stella without me. She’s nesting and is quite defensive of her territory.”

Harry looks away in embarrassment, and his eye catches on Stella’s pearly white scales. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Malfoy’s voice fills with quiet wonder. “I’ve worked with her since she was a chick. I can’t believe she’s a soon-to-be-mother herself.” 

“Will I get to watch the egg hatch?” 

“It depends on how long you end up staying.” Harry hears a promising note in his tone and hopes it’s not just him projecting.

  


* * *

  


“How’s it going at the Sanctuary?” Hermione asks, her face floating in the green flames of the hearth. 

“It’s fine,” Harry responds, not wanting to talk about it.

“How’s Charlie?” 

“Charlie’s,”—Harry pauses because he has no fucking clue how Charlie is doing—“good.” Even through the Floo-flames, he can tell that Hermione is giving him one of her _looks_ that says she knows he’s lying. “Charlie’s not even here—he’s off in China for a conference.” 

“Oh, then who’s training you?” 

“Malfoy.”

“ _Oh_.” 

“I can hear everything you’re not saying, ‘Mione.” And he can—they’ve been friends for long enough. She’s worried about Malfoy and him, concerned Harry will fall back into his old patterns of obsession and rivalry. “I don’t even care that it’s bloody Malfoy, but does he have to go around wearing those dragonhide trousers all the time?” 

Hermione starts to say something, then stops herself. “I’m not even going to ask. But please, take care of yourself, okay? I know how you can get around Malfoy, and I just want you to be happy.”

  


* * *

  


After two weeks of training with Malfoy, Harry can’t help blurting out, “Are you required to wear dragonhide trousers? Like is it written in your contract somewhere that you must be wearing them at all times?” 

Malfoy looks up from the forest floor, where they’re gathering a few potions ingredients. “I don’t wear them _all_ the time,” he drawls. “I prefer to sleep in the nude, thank you very much.” 

Fuck, now all Harry can think about is Malfoy sleeping naked, all that pale skin on display. “Uhm,” he responds elegantly. 

“But if you must know,”—Malfoy gives Harry a searching look—“it’s not a requirement, no. But, they’re good for working with dragons, and I like the way they make my arse look.” 

Harry can’t deny that statement—he’s been a little too obsessed with Malfoy’s arse as of late.

  


* * *

  


“Take them off, Malfoy, or I swear—I’ll…” Harry trails off, having a hard time thinking of what exactly he’ll do. 

“Bossy, Potter,” Malfoy pants, pushing off of Harry and rolling onto his back so he can work his trousers off. “Besides, I thought you liked them.” He finally manages to take them off and chucks them to the side, turning back over and moving on top of Harry. “You stared at my arse enough.” 

“I do like them,” Harry says, blushing, trailing his hand lightly over Malfoy’s sharp cheekbones. “But I like this even better.” He pulls Malfoy in for a kiss, marvelling at how easy they fit together. 

He might just get to see Stella’s egg hatch after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are ♥
> 
> I love making new friends on [Tumblr](http://glittering-git.tumblr.com/) and [Dreamwidth](https://glittering-git.dreamwidth.org/)!


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